Kelvin Harrison Jr. stars as the titular Luce, a high-school senior who, at the age of seven, was adopted from war-torn Eritrea and brought to America by parents Amy and Peter (Naomi Harris and Tim Roth). Now a star athlete and soon-to-be Valedictorian, Luce appears to be the very embodiment of the American Dream, until his history teacher, Miss Wilson (Octavia Spencer), makes an unsettling discovery.

This was one of our most anticipated films of last year, and we were lucky enough to catch it a few weeks early when Picturehouse screened it as their surprise film back in October. While we weren’t entirely sold on it the first time, we felt it was worth a second look. The subject matter is certainly thought-provoking, dealing as it does with issues of tokenism, stereotyping and the long term effects of childhood trauma, and the cast is solid. Harrison Jr. is a particular standout; his at times unsettling performance perfectly toes the line between charming and sinister, and leaves the audience guessing right through to the films ambiguous conclusion.

The film is based on a play of the same name and its theatrical roots are very apparent, sadly not always in a good way. Interactions between characters often seem contrived, such as when Miss Wilson and the school principle are asked to help Luce prepare for a school debate, prompting a very direct – and slightly on the nose – discussion about students’ right to privacy in school. Elsewhere the film the commits the cardinal cinematic sin, of telling its audience about a key event, rather than letting them see for themselves. This kind of reportage works well in theatre, where the story has to be told within the confines of a restricted space and with a limited cast, but on film it has a distancing effect on the audience. We’re told, for instance, that Wilson has been singling out Luce’s school friend Stephanie, to make and example of her, but we never see it happen. We’re also told that at one point she called all the African American members of the track team, and warns them that “it is your duty not to be stereotypes”, in a film that’s all about tokenism and labelling, this is a scene we would like to have seen.

The real problem however, lies in the film’s narrative; simply put, there is too much of it. It is stuffed to the rafters with subplots, to the point where it would easily be possible to extract at least three, if not more, separate films from it. There’s the one about the teenager who comes under suspicion because of people’s prejudicial views of his background. There’s the one about a married couple trying to reconcile the husband’s desire for a biological child, with the wife’s undivided devotion to her adopted son. There’s the one about the teacher struggling to meet the needs of a sister with severe mental illness. That’s three already, and we haven’t even mentioned the sexual assault subplot. All this makes for a film that feels overly convoluted and strangely unfocused.

There’s a lot of talk in Luce about people making political statements with their actions. Despite a valiant effort, we found ourself wishing the filmmakers had made a bolder statement with theirs.